


be nobody's darling but mine

by MarquisdeDiscotheque, Zsazsa4



Series: rat girl summer [3]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, ladies' undies, no sulks here!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:22:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26009470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarquisdeDiscotheque/pseuds/MarquisdeDiscotheque, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zsazsa4/pseuds/Zsazsa4
Summary: ‘Tell you what,’ Tozer murmured, leaning closer to Fitzjames, ‘it didn’t half get me hot, though. When I used to box. A fight then a fuck, nothing to beat it.’Tozer and Fitzjames go on an entertaining day out, and return for an entertaining night in.
Relationships: Commander James Fitzjames/Sgt Solomon Tozer
Series: rat girl summer [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877806
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	be nobody's darling but mine

They had been on plenty of dates, or excursions, as Fitzjames always termed them. He wasn’t sure whether they counted as dates or not. The theatre, some of his favourite restaurants, although Tozer had stubbornly refused to go to the ballet. Fitzjames had just as insistently wriggled out of anything to do with Tozer’s Sunday football league. So when Tozer had suggested, almost offhand, an amateur boxing match, Fitzjames felt he had to agree. (Tozer had tried not to look too excited, even though this was one for the books - Fitzjames rarely agreed to anything with the potential to get rough other than sex.) 

The venue’s licensing was dubious, one of the fighters a friend of Tozer’s from the site. ‘So no funny business, because he wants to set me up with his girlfriend’s sister,’ Tozer had said, and had to gently explain he was only ribbing him. Fitzjames grimaced over his pint. He wasn’t really a beer drinker, and certainly not a watery lager drinker.

‘Do you know a lot about it? Boxing?’

‘I had a go at it when I was first in the regiment. I’m bloody awful at it,’ Tozer said, laughing. ‘I can hit fairly hard but I’m too slow and I can’t take a punch.’

The thought of Tozer boxing, even being awful at it, even getting punched rather hard (perhaps, if he had to admit it, especially getting punched rather hard), caused a stir in Fitzjames’ trousers that he willed to wait. He tucked away a mental image of Tozer with a split lip for later.

‘What about you? You ever do it at your fancy school?’

‘No. There were more than enough avenues for more or less organised bullying without that.’

‘Organised touching too, I bet.’

Fitzjames laughed. ‘I suppose we’ve both spent a fair amount of time in all-male environments.’

‘Wouldn’t you like to know what I got up to.’

Fitzjames very much would have liked to know, but Tozer was so simultaneously cagey and flippant about it that he could never be sure whether or not he was just teasing. He imagined it very much like his own fumbles at the far end of the playing fields or in the organ loft after hours, but with rougher men and without the organ loft. If any of it was true.

‘Tell you what,’ Tozer murmured, leaning closer to Fitzjames, ‘it didn’t half get me hot, though. The boxing. A fight then a fuck, nothing to beat it.’

Much as he was now looking forward to the fight, part of Fitzjames couldn’t wait for it to be over.

***

He’d barely unlocked the door to the flat when Tozer was pushing him against the wall, kissing him so hard he almost dropped the keys. The boxing had lived up to its promise - sweat, heat, and the smell of smoke and beer still lingered on Tozer’s breath. He wrapped a hand around Tozer’s broad shoulders and let himself be held there, pinned in place. Tozer gave the door a kick shut with his heel and then directed all his attention to Fitjames’ lips, his neck, his chest. He fumbled with his belt buckle, trying to get a hand down the front of Fitzjames’ trousers, but Fitzjames wrapped a leg around Tozer’s waist so tightly that he settled for groping his arse instead. 

‘Bedroom?’ Fitzjames whispered against his ear. ‘Would you carry me up, there’s a sweetheart?’

‘Great lump you are,’ Tozer said. ‘What if I drop you? You wouldn’t be happy with a fireman’s lift, would you.’

‘You won’t drop me,’ Fitzjames said. ‘And this is better.’ He moved his other leg up, curled it around Tozer’s waist and crossed his ankles. Their crotches brushed together. Tozer heaved him up a little less delicately than Fitzjames had envisioned, one arm around his waist and another under his thigh. Tozer held him up like that and kissed him again, steadying himself for the climb.

‘Mind your head,’ he said, ‘I can’t see a thing,’ and set off doggedly towards the stairs, breathing hard as he started climbing. About halfway up he slipped and had to grab at the banister so that Fitzjames nearly fell backwards. Sweaty, heart pounding, he was impressed they both made it to the top unscathed - bar Fitjames’ arm knocking hard against the wall during the slip, but he thought James probably deserved that. ‘Could have cracked your head instead,’ he said when James complained. If he wanted it rough, he’d have to take it rough.

He dumped Fitzjames down onto the bed in a spool of limbs. He stripped off straight away, as always, making short work of it, and stood at the foot of the bed, showing off. Fitzjames’ gaze grew dark and intense as he watched from the bed. He had enough time to summon a few thoughts about Greek athletes and the like before Tozer came down on top of him and made thinking very difficult. He unbuttoned Fitzjames’s shirt, gently nudged him up so that he could take it off. He kissed down his torso, grasped at his arms and shoulders. Finally, Fitzjames’ fly was in reach, and he set to work at the buttons, tongue sticking out of his mouth with concentration. Fitzjames lay back on the bed, groaning. 

Then Tozer stopped and looked up. He seemed, it had to be said, distinctly daunted. ‘Are these women’s things?’ he said.

‘Yes, they’re French knickers. Do you like them?’ Fitzjames himself liked them very much - he didn’t particularly think of them as women’s things, but loved the look and feel of the silky fabric against his most sensitive places. He ran a hand along where they skimmed his thighs, looking up at Tozer from under his eyelashes.

To Tozer, knickers conjured up a trip to Ann Summers - a bare handful of lace in red or black, thongs, perhaps even one of those crotchless things a past girlfriend had surprised him with. Most of all they meant a woman’s hips, waist and bum. Instead, Fitzjames’ cock pressed against the dusky pink satin. ‘Well, they’re quite big, aren’t they?’ Tozer said. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman wearing a pair of these.’ They reminded him of a very skimpy pair of swimming trunks, but silky, with an edge of lace circling the hem.

‘They’re classic! Can’t you see me on the silver screen?’ Fitzjames pouted. 

Tozer nodded, a little blankly. ‘Well,’ he said carefully, ‘I’d like anything you wear. You always look fit. You don’t have to put stuff on for me.’ He climbed onto the bed, bracketed Fitzjames’s thighs with his own legs.

Fitzjames blushed, even though he wasn’t at all sure he’d won Tozer round. ‘Putting them on for you would clearly be a waste,’ he said, ‘but thank you. We can’t all wander round stark naked like you, darling.’

‘I wouldn’t mind it. Wouldn’t mind it at all.’ Tozer ran a hand down Fitzjames’ cock through the fabric, and gave it a light squeeze. It felt nice enough, but he wanted to touch it properly. ‘Do I… leave them on?’ he said. He was trying to think of what Fitzjames might want him to do with them still on, but not having much luck. His own cock was rubbing against the silky cloth. Really, he wanted to take them off, turn Fitzjames over and fuck him hard, get a hand in his hair and come inside him. He preferred the simple - and strangely elusive, at the moment - pleasures.

Fitzjames chuckled. In reply, he grabbed Tozer and rolled them over, until he was on top. Then, with a wink, he shimmied off the bed and knelt between Tozer’s legs. 

Tozer barely had time to register the movement before he felt Fitzjames lick a hot, wet stripe up the underside of his cock. ‘Fuck,’ he said, because he knew James liked it when he made any noise in bed. ‘Go on.’

Fitzjames took Tozer’s cock into his mouth and moaned around it, the vibration tantalising. ‘Get to it,’ Tozer said, ‘you little tease. Or do you want me to fuck your mouth before I fuck you properly?’

Fitzjames sucked and licked at Tozer’s cock in earnest. He allowed Tozer to thrust a little before holding his hips back, taking it at his own pace. He’d never been one to take it passively, despite Dundy’s incessant pillow princess jokes. He liked to direct Tozer, who took to it surpassingly well. He ignored Tozer’s protesting groan when he pulled off. ‘That’s enough,’ he said, ‘I want you to fuck me. Put me over that desk.’ 

Tozer gaped at him, then rapidly got to it. He held him down by the scruff of the neck. ‘Is that what you want? Is that how you like it?’ he said, sounding oddly and endearingly plaintive.

‘Yes-’ Fitjames gasped, pushing back against Tozer. He made a strangled groan. ‘That’s exactly how I like it.’ The praise seemed to do it for Tozer. The knickers were unceremoniously yanked down, pooling at Fitzjames’ feet. Tozer ran a thumb over Fitzjames’ lips and then got it wetter with lube, slid it between his buttocks. It was broad, stretched him out and Tozer laid the rest of his hand against Fitzjames’s lower back. He twisted, fast and firm, and Fitzjames gasped into the wood of the desk. He pushed in another finger, making a wet noise that Fitzjames blushed at.

‘I can hear it, how wet you are for me, your cunt -’

Fitzjames wanted to cut him off there; he’d never liked that kind of talk before, found it silly. But now a part of him let Tozer go on - the same part that lounged around the house in satin and chiffon, that imagined a big, rough young man lifting his slip and kissing, sucking his cock. Perhaps next time Tozer would ruck up the skirt of his kimono and fuck him like that. Tozer really did seem up for anything. He was a far more adaptable and biddable partner than Fitzjames had expected.

Tozer talked him up to it, opening him slowly. ‘I can feel how much you like it, can’t wait for it, can you?’ He’d moved his hand back so that it was between Fitzjames’s shoulderblades, callouses grazing his skin. Fitzjames tilted his head back, mouth half-open, and Tozer kissed at his jaw. ‘Tell me you want it, come on, I know you do.’

‘Oh, I want it.’ 

‘Want what?’

‘I want your cock inside me, Solomon,’ Fitzjames grinned, ‘as you keep telling me.’ He had little patience, really, for other people’s ramblings, even as he expected everyone to have patience for his own.

‘Cheeky bugger,’ Tozer said, pulling his fingers out gently. Fitzjames could hear the rustling of a condom packet behind him, and after a too long stretch of emptiness Tozer pushed in.

‘Mmm-’ he felt full and stretched around Tozer’s cock, their bodies flush together and sticky with sweat. Tozer had stopped talking and was breathing heavily into Fitzjames’ shoulder as he thrust, firm and measured. 

Fitzjames gripped at the desk with sweaty hands, his feet jolting at every movement against his prostate. Tozer got his legs in between Fitzjames’ and spread them open wider so that he was forced to lean harder onto the desk, pushing back onto Tozer’s cock. ‘You can do better than that,’ he said. He tried to look around at Tozer through his lashes, but he was pinned too hard against the desk to turn much.

Tozer thrust into him particularly hard, sped up, so that it was on the edge of brutal, exactly how Fitzjames wanted it. ‘I want you to touch yourself,’ Tozer said, sounding as if he were concentrating very intently. ‘Feel you come.’

Fitzjames complied, stroking himself until he was on the verge of coming. He felt Tozer’s hot breath against his shoulder, and clenched down onto him, spilling at the sensation. He cried out, and Tozer made to pull out and finish himself off but Fitzjames stopped him. ‘Keep going, please, I wish you could come inside me, fill me up.’ Tozer didn’t need any more encouragement. He grabbed Fitzjames’ hips and drove into him, chasing his own orgasm, fucking Fitzjames mercilessly until finally a wave of pleasure flooded through him. 

They collapsed together over the desk, Tozer growing soft inside Fitzjames but not wanting to break apart just yet. He planted a kiss on Fitzjames’ shoulder and stroked his long hair out of his face.

‘Was that good?’ Tozer asked.

Fitzjames actually laughed. ‘What do you think?’ He lay his face in his arms, smiling. 

Tozer didn’t say anything, but Fitzjames felt him tense.

‘Yes, Solomon, it was good! It was very good! I thought that was obvious.’

Tozer buried his face into Fitzjames’ back and wiped a bit of spit from his shoulder blade. The position was starting to become uncomfortable for Fitzjames; his bruised arm was throbbing.

‘Out you come, I’d like to see your face.’

Fitzjames felt Tozer move inside him, and then still. He muttered something and then pushed the tip of a finger back inside.

‘Is everything all right up there?’ Fitzjames did not feel that everything was all right up there. He had a sudden horrible vision of a loose condom floating around inside him. 

‘All fine,’ Tozer said, obviously pulling the condom out, which was a rather nasty sensation.  
Seemingly pleased that he’d averted disaster, Tozer threw the condom into the bin under the desk, and turned Fitzjames around to face him. His eyes searched Fitzjames’ - for what, Fitzjames wasn’t sure - and finding whatever emotion or lack thereof he’d been looking for, smiled at him. He had rather unexpected dimples. He lay on the bed, on his back. After Fitzjames turned the lights off and arranged himself next to him, wanting to ask him - something - he realised that Tozer was gently snoring, sound asleep.

***

Tozer’s alarm woke Fitzjames up with a start, and for a moment he thought he was back at boarding school and one of the older boys was about to piss on his bed. He jerked an arm out almost reflexively, and it collided with Tozer’s sturdy backside.

‘It’s six in the morning,’ Fitzjames said, looking at his alarm clock through bleary eyes. ‘Why is it six in the morning?’ 

‘Shit,’ Tozer said, ‘sorry. I forgot to turn my alarm off. It’s for work.’

‘What? I don’t get up at six in the morning for work. What are you doing? Do you have an extensive beauty routine I knew nothing about?’

‘Fuck off,’ Tozer said, ‘I have to be at the site before eight and it’s ages away.’

Fitzjames wrinkled his face. He hated when Tozer got moody and sullen for no reason that he could predict. He scrubbed at his eyes - he’d not moisturised last night, that would be why his skin felt so awful - and felt Tozer wrap an arm around him from behind. Then he felt something else. 

Tozer was one of those enviable people who, once awoken, was simply awake. Once he was up he was up, and at this moment he was undeniably up. The 6am alarm could, James thought, be put to some use. He rolled on top of Tozer then knelt in between his thighs, looking at his thick, hard prick.

‘Are you just going to look at it?’ Tozer said, good-naturedly. 

James yawned and raised his eyebrows. 

‘Well worth a suck, I think.’ He ran a hand through Fitzjames’s hair and left it there, at the nape of his neck. 

James thought regretfully of how tangled it was; he was a little worried it was thinning; but the light pressure of Tozer’s hand felt more than nice. He took Tozer’s prick into his mouth in a leisurely fashion, licking and sucking at it and closing his eyes. Tozer groaned, then stayed silent, apart from the occasional laboured breath. 

When he came, it was with a little grunt, and then he was spilling hot into Fitzjames’ mouth. He lay back as Fitzjames licked him clean. It was, he thought, a very nice way to wake up. 

He made a half-hearted effort to pull Fitzjames off, going through the motions at an awkward angle, given his obvious reluctance to sit up. His limbs felt so heavy. Fitzjames was a solid, grounding weight where he was seated on top of him. His fumblings gradually slowed; he knew that Fitzjames would eventually do it himself. That he liked it, sometimes, when Tozer didn’t give him what he wanted. Fitzjames took himself in hand instead, closed his eyes when Tozer’s gaze on him became too much.

‘I’d have thought you’d want to see it,’ Tozer said. ‘When you come on me. Get it all over me, get me messy. Clean me up, after.’

Fitzjames opened his eyes. He didn’t need any more of an invitation; he could feel the blush creeping up his cheeks, Tozer’s eyes following every languid movement he made. He wasn’t new to this game, but something about the way Tozer looked at him - intent yet incurious, arrogant without even noticing, like he expected to be adored - made him finish almost embarrassingly fast, over Tozer’s belly and chest. Tozer took it for granted, what he did to him. 

He ran a finger through the wetness at the head of Fitzjames’s cock and licked it off. ‘That’s better.’ There was the slightest hint of a question in it. Fitzjames nodded, and crawled off to lie beside him. ‘Get us a towel, ta.’

‘Get your own!’ Fitzjames said, but he was already marshalling his aching legs for the journey to the ensuite. He got them both towels, and had barely finished wiping Tozer down before Tozer had started to doze off. He lay his head on Tozer’s warm chest, not even minding that it was still slightly sticky. 

When he looked at the clock next, it had just gone eight. For once, Tozer was awake before him, lying on his back and thinking or daydreaming. Fitzjames got up and put on one of his silky dressing gowns. Tozer watched from the bed, lazily and naturally naked.

‘It’s nothing I haven’t seen,’ he said. ‘It’s nothing I don’t like to see.’

Fitzjames combed his fingers through his hair, wanted very much to look in the mirror on his vanity but didn’t want Tozer to see him do it. ‘We’re not all young like you,’ he said. ‘Close scrutiny isn’t always in order.’

‘I’m hardly young. I’m thirty four.’

‘Well,’ Fitzjames said, ‘I’m a decent bit older than that.’ He thought wistfully of the decade or so separating them. If Tozer could have seen him at thirty four, at twenty four, when he’d felt as if the world was at his fingertips and he could have anything he pleased- well. He kept himself in good nick but there was a certain slackness around the gut, skinniness in his legs that nothing could help.

‘Come here,’ Tozer said, and tried to pull him back onto the bed. Fitzjames willed himself to shake off his reverie; there was a beautiful man naked in his bed, beckoning him back, and all he could do was dwell on grey hairs. That wouldn’t do. 

He came to sit by Tozer and stroked a hand across his chest. Tozer almost purred. He was bathed in the glow of the morning sun, a gorgeous light that seemed to pour in at the cracks in the curtains and soak everything it touched. ‘Shall I make you a cup of tea? What would you like?’

‘I shall have to be off fairly soon,’ he said, regretfully. ‘I’ve got practice at ten and all my kit’s at home. And I’ll need a shower after all that.’ He luxuriated in James’ touch, stretching out slowly, twisting. ‘Dress me,’ he said, suddenly. ‘I like that. I like to be looked after.’ He looked almost entirely innocent, lost in the sensual pleasure of being touched; then he looked James full in the face and James saw his straightforward self-regard.

Fitzjames felt himself flush. 

Tozer’s clothes were over the end of the bed. Fitzjames collected them, slowly, caressing the fabrics as if they were relics, resisting the urge to smell them. He knew Tozer wouldn’t have minded, would have enjoyed it, but nonetheless. He slipped Tozer’s boxers over his ankles, up his calves and thighs, over his arse. He gave Tozer’s crotch, already semi-hard again, a last squeeze. ‘Not a bad handful,’ Tozer said, then laughed, a little embarrassed.

‘You’re well aware of what you’re carrying and you don’t need me to tell you,’ Fitzjames said. Still, he looked upon the bulge very fondly. 

Next, Tozer’s jeans, still muddy at the hems from some jaunt or other. Fitzjames pulled them on and started to do up his belt, when Tozer’s hands met his at the buckle. Tozer turned his hands around, tracing his knuckles. Both men wanted to say something, but neither dared intrude on the silence that seemed to have crept up on them. 

Fitzjames took his hands away and reached for Tozer’s socks. Tozer sat up on the bed so that Fitzjames had to carefully kneel on the floor; his knees didn’t thank him. He wrapped a hand round Tozer’s calf, briefly laid his head on the inside of his thighs, before sitting up and lifting one of Tozer’s legs to put his sock on. Tozer let himself be moved, watched on. When Fitzjames had the sock on his second foot Tozer rested it on his chest, briefly, as if deciding whether or not to push him over onto his back. Then he brought his leg back down to the floor. 

He let Fitzjames pull his arms up and tug his shirt down over his head, adjust the collar just so, stroke a line up his neck and across his sparse beard. Fitzjames cupped Tozer’s chin and tilted his head just a little. Tozer thought perhaps he’d gone too far with the foot, and that Fitzjames might cool, but he only drew their lips to meet and gave Tozer a sweet, soft kiss. 

‘You could come to my game next week. Maybe I’ll even let you meet the boys, if you’re good.’

‘Oh - I would, but I’m quite busy. Sunday, isn’t it. No, I can’t do next Sunday, I’m afraid.’

‘Suit yourself,’ Tozer said. ‘You are a rotten liar, though. I suppose you’re too busy for a lift to the station, too.’

At that moment, the last thing Fitzjames wanted was to be stuck in traffic on the Seven Sisters Road with Tozer in a mood. ‘Well. I’ll come to your football when you come to the ballet,’ Fitzjames said, and Tozer couldn’t bring himself to agree. 

‘You don’t want me to, not really,’ Tozer said, ‘but I don’t mind. Boxing and bedroom’s all right with me.’

‘I do… value your company, you know.’ Fitzjames’ eyes met Tozer’s. Both were pragmatic looks, if a little strained at the edges. ‘Look, we had a lovely time, let’s not spoil it, hmm?’

Tozer nodded. ‘I did say it’s all right with me. No sulks this time.’

‘I’ll see you next week?’

‘No change here.’ Tozer softened and gave him a proper kiss, slow, and brought his hand up to the small of James’s back. He let Tozer hold him, kissed him back sweetly. ‘That’s better, now,’ Tozer said.

He walked Tozer out to the door, where he shoved his feet into his battered trainers. Fitzjames perched on the top step, about to kiss him. ‘Fuck,’ Tozer said abruptly, ‘the bus is coming.’ He gave Fitzjames a distracted peck and took off running.

Fitzjames watched Tozer’s arse as he ran down the street, until he was a small figure at the end of the road. He had been going to offer him a lift, but after all that he thought he rather deserved the bus. 

Tozer made the bus - just - and when he looked back after getting on, the door to the flat was already closed.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Jimmie Davis song - [I quite like this version.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JNPNwGXeqKg)
> 
> [One of us is on tumblr](https://roaringgirl.tumblr.com)


End file.
